Would appreciate any criticisms. I think this may be my first ever erotica scene I've written.
Quick backstory. Runt is a fabled warrior. He has just come back from saving a minstrel who was about to be attacked by some peasant. He is drenched in blood. He spots the barmaid he had been flirting with earlier and feels a rise in him.
The bar was empty when the pair of them returned, save for the barmaid still scrubbing tabletops. Candles flickered in each corner of the room and the chandelier above – a slight jingling sound emanated from the chains with each little draft pushed in through the windows. She glanced and smirked at the hulking mass. A grin appeared upon his blood-drenched face as he wondered how warm a hearth she could be. He pushed away the minstrel and told him to go upstairs.
“Use my room. Number three. I won’t be needing it tonight,” he said, his eyes squinting at the glowing mess of the barmaid. She licked her lips.
“Now, now,” The bartender called from a door slightly ajar. “You can use your room for that sort of thing upstairs.”
Runt ignored the words and stripped away the leather straps from his belt, his chest still dotted with the blood of the night’s kills, and in the dimming candlelight of the tavern, he glowed a soothing orange. The barmaid leaned back onto the table, letting her dress fall between her legs, teasing Runt that she is not one to give, but one to be taken. And take her he did, pushing his calloused hand upwards to her mound, grabbing tight her womanhood. She let a gasp of air escape and her eyes widened, fixated on his, drawing him closer, begging without words, wanting with a hunger. His grip tightened, his teeth gritted together, his head tilted and he approached her lips as a crane to water, delicate, fast, ready for the feast. He pushed his tongue between her lips to grapple hers, swirling as two lovers interlocked, and when he withdrew a thin bridge of spit trailed between them.
“Fuck me,” she said.
“I don’t need to be told to fuck,” he replied, grabbing the top of her head and pushing her down, her eyes still looking up and watching his face. She took hold of his cock with her right hand, and then with her left so she could feel the full extent of it and then placed its throbbing head between her lips, letting her tongue dance around its rim, soaking it to the core. Runt gripped her hair tight, so it pulled at the roots, her blonde curls encasing his skin like some silken armor. Soon, her locks were stained with the blood of the peasant he had killed earlier, and he smeared more of it as he pressed her harder onto his member, deeper, and faster until he could feel her throat gripping him. She pressed her hands against his rockened stomach trying to escape, gagging, moaning and unfurling more spit from between her lips, whilst Runt carried on against her will, conquering the barmaid with a strength unknown to her until he finally let her up for air and pulled her head back to stare at her. She smiled and wiped her mouth, her eyes wide and starlit and let loose a cheeky grin.
“You play with me,” Runt said.
She nodded back.
Runt grabbed at her tunic and pulled the strings free, letting her breasts spill out into the warm air. He grabbed one with a hand and pulled the nipple of another between his teeth, and then let his tongue push against the soft bosom until her head flung back and she stared upwards moaning. She didn’t expect to feel the other hand run up her leg, brushing against her golden skin and finding a new home between her other lips. She didn’t expect such a warrior to handle a delicate thing so tenderly, nor did she expect her legs to convulse, to spasm, her womanhood to spill upon the table so soon. And like a parched desert dog he disappeared between her legs, hidden under her flowing blue dress, drinking her, tasting her, letting his tongue wander between the wondrous valley, until she moaned again and again, uncontrolled, unwilling and soon surrendering to just letting it all be, letting the world around her fade to focus on what had become the only necessity. And she wanted more. She needed it. She wanted it deep inside her.
‘Fuck me,’ she begged, ‘take me and fuck me, I beg of you, just fuck me now.’
Runt withdrew from under her dress and wiped clean his mouth with the back of his forearm. His chin glistened with sweat and juice and he smiled his smile as he put a hand to each of her shoulders and pushed her back against the table. She fell willingly, her back thumping against the hardwood table. She felt a small tug at the hemline of her dress, and then felt the brisk air of the tavern upon her legs as Runt tore her free and pulled her to the edge of the table. He held his cock within his hand, pointed clean at where he hoped to plant it. But first he surveyed his new land, his new dominion, his property for the night. He watched her breasts gather and fall like the tides against her glowing skin, encased in the white of her torn blouse as mountains peak from within the snow. He looked at her smoothened womanhood, backlit by the blue curtain of her dress, and how it glistened and seeped with her sweat. There is something about the half-dressed woman, he thought, like the savage dressed; the primal being in a uniform; and when it is torn, I fuck both worlds.
He approached her slow at first, encasing his cock within her warmed flesh, and she gripped him slow too, her nails clawing the pulsing muscles of his shoulder blades, gasping at each inch he entered her more, wondering where he began and when he ended. It was filling her up, reminding her of the time when she experimented with the candleholders, fitting one after another between her lips until she could do no more. But with Runt, his cock seemed to go more than that. Runt seemed to fill her up to the brim, but at the same time there was no hurt from the pain, only pleasure. And he pressed against her further until her mouth was wide open and her eyes shut and her pearly whites shined against the amber candlelight. She felt his hand grip her throat and she grinned and she begged for him. She begged for all of him until he gripped harder until she could not speak and she spilled again from between her legs, drenching the warrior’s rippled thighs. He gripped harder, and thrust deeper and faster. He grabbed one of her tits with his hand, pulling and groping and pushing at it; slapping it hard and fast and watching it turn red from the blood surfacing to the skin. He watched her face with each pummel of his member, and how it let loose a pinken hue, and how she gasped with each attack, and let the drool come between her lips and dribble onto the table. She was helpless onto him yet she thrust just as hard back, as if her subconscious told her to – as if she knew she would never feel as good as she did with the warrior.
She held him tight with every part of her body; inside and out, feeling her eyes roll back. The table rocked and creaked, the brass mugs fell and clattered to the floor, crockery smashed against the rock tiled surface. The table legs gave way and she winced, waiting for the pain that would come when she makes contact with the floor. But then she felt his hands grip hard against her waist. He was holding her up, steadied, and continuing to thrust, like she was some plaything, some ragdoll. She looked up at the warrior, his jawline strong, his muscles sweaty and rippling, his teeth clenched together, fur littered across his chest and his arms, his long hair drenched in sweat and blood and pulsing with each thrust. He was a beast. And she saw he was watching himself enter her, over and over again. She wrapped her legs around him tighter and then pulled herself up to him, pulling at his neck with her arms. Soon she felt the rock wall of the tavern caress her back as he pressed her against it, never letting her feet touch the ground. She was pinned, entwined, fucked incessantly until she noticed the glint so familiar in a man’s eye. His cock was stiffening to something like steel. And he was going at her even faster, grunting, breathing, pummelling her again and again until she begged him for it. To feel his warmth within her. She wanted to taste him as he had tasted her.
And he tried.
And kept trying.
And soon she began to dry.
And soon she began to hurt.
And soon he stopped, and let her go, and stumbled towards one of the benches to sleep; unfulfilled, frustrated and in silence. She dared not approach.
Midway through the night she woke with her head pounding and she could no longer stomach water, throwing everything up. She felt a coldness grip her. And as she took her last breath she grabbed at her throbbing womanhood, a smile on her face, hoping to take the experience to the afterlife.
Sorry about the anti-climax (hurhurhur). Runt has been poisoned by the Forniqueen, he is unable to cum. (also every woman he fucks dies). Soon after he figures this out and with the help of his old friend and his new friend the minstrel, and his two dire rhino siblings, they travel across the land to confront her.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1e23fe/first_erotica_scene_ive_written_part_of_my_dark
Thanks for posting this, enjoyed reading it. Here are some of my thoughts and critiques: * Set the scene more and describe the atmosphere/mood of the place. What does the bar look like? is it rundown/dirty? are there other patrons at the bar? does the bartender look happy/put off to see him? what kind of drinks do they serve? does he get a drink when he first get there? does he spend some time recollecting about the day’s events? what are his thoughts when he notices the barmaid? what does she look like and what is she wearing? (be specific and give lots of details about the barmaid) * Don’t rush to the sex: spend some time developing the relationship between him and the barmaid. Does she try to sell him drinks/food? is she impressed/scared of him? is she a prostitute? how does the barmaid rank against the other women he has been with? * More explicit visual details during the sex. how does her mouth look? what’s kind of expression does she have? does she sweat during sex? how big is the guy’s penis? how hard does it get? is he circumcised? does he unsheath it like a mighty sword? does the woman stare in awe? is the penis throbbing? is the woman apprehensive at first? * The whole "no cum / kills woman" angle is kinda dark. It’s like he’s got an STD but still sleeps around. What about something like this instead: every woman he sleeps with, goes smooth down there (vagina disappears), or they grow a penis or something. Cheers
Hooray a comment, thanks! First point: ah yes, I have already described the bar in an earlier scene, as well as the bartender and what she’s wearing. But I think a re-cap wouldn’t hurt at all. More about the barmaid, environment, build-up, gotcha. Second: Runt is this mighty fabled warrior, people think he’s almost mythical and no little about his origins (or his origins are so insane that people wouldn’t believe the story anyway). You reminded me I need to show this in the barmaid – she has to be a little scared, shy, but at the same time just really glad this is happening. Sort of meeting your celebrity crush conversation. Third: Okay this was really helpful – basically, I need to get more dirty and detailed. Its difficult for me this – gotta practice and I guess read more erotica. Luckily the girlfriend has heaps of it stored so I’ll raid that shit sometime. Also I read drinking helps with writing sex scenes so I’ll try that. Fourth: Yeah its pretty dark. Runt even knows that this is happening but hes in denial about it. He also has pressure to perform, to live up to his name, and peer pressure from his old friend who is also with him. The thing is if it causes stuff like vagina to disappear or a penis to grow then the sex won’t happen yeah? Unless it happens after – but I find that almost too comedic for the atmosphere. Actual death fits in more with the theme I’m trying to cast. Sort of tongue-in-cheek dark fantasy/humour/metalocalypse/kargoth of barbaria + erotica ha. He’ll be cured by the end of the first volume when he meets his poisoner. Glad you enjoyed reading it and thank you for the critiques!
Let’s just call this what it is: erotic horror in a fantasy setting. I love it- first, my agreement with randuser: Vulgarity and more descriptive sex- don’t be afraid to use words like pussy, cunt, cock, dick, etc. Erotic horror is its own genre and you can definitely move forward with it if that’s what you want. I don’t know what you’re planning on doing with this, but I think you should continue with it as-is.
Like a monkey playing the piano. Good news: the piano is well tuned. Practice!